Seraph
by Farferrie
Summary: Heero is thought dead, and Duo can't take it. How do he and the others react?


"NO!"  Duo shrieked, diving for the radio; to smash it, destroy it--and with it, the vile news it broadcasted.  
  
Wufei caught him around the waist two steps from the windowsill.  "Maxwell!  No!  Leave it!"  
  
"He can't be dead!  He *can't* be!!"  Duo thrashed in his friend's arms, still frantically trying to kill the radio.  "Not him!  Not hm!  Not Heero too!  He can't die!!"  He slumped in the L5 pilot's embrace, breathing raggedly.  He allowed Wufei to pull him back towards the rickety couch and pull him into his lap.  
  
One strong, caramel hand settled Duo's head on Wufei's shoulder.  "It's all right, Maxwell; just go ahead and cry."  
  
Duo shook his head, biting his fist.  "Boys don't cry."  
  
Wufei sighed and gently tugged on Duo's braid to look his comrade in the eyes.  "No Maxwell, boy's don't cry.  But men do, and so do soldiers.  You are both.  You have earned the right to mourn."  
  
With a little keening wail, Duo buried his face in Wufei's neck and sobbed, finally allowing himself to cry after suppressing it for ten years.  
  
Wufei just sat there and cradled him, rubbing his back, murmuring soft encouragements into that silky hair.  Sloe eyes met aqua as Quatre slipped into the safe house, daring the Arab to say a word.  The blond just shook his head and went to his and Trowa's room.  
  
Several hours later, after an emotionally exhausted Duo woke up from a much needed nap, Trowa quietly came into the safe house, forest eyes suspiciously red-rimmed.  "Duo."  
  
The auburn haired young man looked up from Wufei's shoulder and shot to his feet.  "He's not dead, Trowa.  He can't be--it's Heero, for Chrissake--he's indestructible!  He's the fucking Perfect Soldier, he can't--he can't---"  With that, Duo burst into tears again, this time throwing himself into Trowa's arms.  
  
Wufei, who had just begun to receive feeling in his legs, looked up at about the time Duo tilted his head up and kissed Trowa full on the lips.  He saw the slight flinch in Trowa's shoulders, and then the relaxation, watched as slim, well-toned arms slid around the L2 young man's waist and haul him hard against that taller frame.  
"Duo..."  Trowa pulled away slightly, swallowing.  
  
"Please, Trowa."  Duo whispered, rubbing himself maddeningly against the Latino's body.  "Please help me forget, just for a little while...?"  
  
"Of course..."  Knowing hands slid down Duo's back and cupped his rear, lifting him slightly and waiting until those strong legs wrapped around Trowa's waist before the taller pilot carried his companion down the hall.  
  
Wufei just shook his head and hoped they wouldn't be *too* loud...  
Ha.  
  


O•å  
  


"Mn..." Trowa pulled the L2 pilot close, lightly kissing his shoulder and smiling sleepily at him.  
  
Duo sighed shakily and reached up a hand to brush sweat-dampened locks from Trowa's cheek.  "I like that.  You should do that more often."  
  
One ginger brow quirked.  "What, pound you into the mattress?"  
  
A faint, pained smile and Duo replied, "Well, I was gonna say, 'smile,' but I like yours, too."  
  
Again, Trowa quirked a brow.  "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah, you look..."  God, this was too much like his and Heero's first time...  
  


O•å  
  


"Oh, wow..."  Duo flopped down onto the bed beside Heero, tossing his braid out of the way and turning to face his lover.  What he saw made him smile.  Not the brash, carefree caricature of a grin he usually wore, but a gentle, kind, *true* smile.  
  
Heero's lips raised a fraction of a millimeter.  "I like that.  You should do that more often."  
  
One fine gold-dusted auburn brow quirked.  "What, pound you into the mattress?"  
  
Another fraction.  "My thought was 'smile from your heart,' but I like yours, too.  It makes you look like a Seraph."  
  
"Really?  I thought I was a demon?"  
  
Heero chuckled and pulled the redhead close, burying his face in that sweet-scented hair.  "Hn.  Baka.  All demons are are fallen angels.  My Seraph."  
  


O•å  
  


Duo and Heero had a deal.  Heero didn't tell the others about Duo's many suicide attempts, and Duo didn't tell the others about Heero's little shrine to Relena Dorlain-Peacecraft.  It worked well for both of them.  
  
Heero came home one evening and caught sight of the passed out figure of his lover on the couch.  It was nothing new; Duo hated to be alone in the safe houses, and so if he had to be, he would drink himself into a mindless stupor to endure it.  With a fleeting inward sigh, he set down his now half-full bag of c-16 and strode towards the couch.  What he saw made  him throw himself to his knees by the couch in horror, frantically slapping the L2 pilot to wake him up.  "Duo, Duo!  Damn you, wake up!"  He picked up his lover and strode towards the bathroom, setting Duo up in a kneeling position over the toilet.  Then he forced the redhead's mouth open and stuck the handle of a toothbrush down his throat, triggering his gag reflex.  He held Duo's braid out of the way as the American woke enough to vomit out all the sleeping pills and alcohol he'd consumed in the past twenty-four hours.  
  
The L1 pilot looked up and gave Quatre a faint scowl when the Arab appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sounds of Duo's retching.  "You were supposed to stay here with him."  
  
"I'm sorry, Heero, really I am!"  Quatre cried.  "But we needed food, and--"  
"You should have taken him with you."  The Japanese young man replied coldly.  "No excuses, Quatre--you abandoned him."  
  
"He's a big boy, Heero Yuy."  The blond shot back hotly.  "He can damn well take care of himself!"  
  
Heero let Duo crawl into the bathtub, clothes on, then reached over to turn the cold water on before he slowly stood to face Quatre.  "He needed you.  You left him here alone.  End of discussion."  He began washing off the end of Duo's toothbrush.  
  
Quatre shivered and plaintitively held a hand out.  "Heero--I'm sorry, I just--I can't stand to see him jerk you around like this--"  Those were the only words he got out before Heero's fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying backwards.  
  
"Life is a chess game, Winner.  We are all each other's pawns.  Get used to it."  The bathroom door closed with horrible quiet, and Heero returned to the bathtub, helping Duo get out of his soaked clothes and then removing his own.  He climbed into the shower with his lover and scrubbed the largely-comatose American down.  He paused, fingering the tie on Duo's braid.  
  
"G'head, Heero."  Duo slurred absently.  "I know y'want'o."  
  
Letting out a soft, shaky sigh, Heero undid the tie to his lover's braid and unraveled it, combing it out with his fingers.  He knew that despite the cold water of the shower, he was quite hard, but he didn't care.  He was being allowed to touch his Seraph's beautiful hair.  
  
The redhead laughed throatily and pulled Heero against him.  "Someone has a hair fetish..."  He purred, smiling up at his lover.  "Hm?"  
  
Heero nodded slightly.  
  
"Well, now.  Close your eyes, Hee-Chan."  Duo waited until his lover had done as instructed.  "Now...imagine the two of us, in a nice, comfy bed with silk sheets..."  He felt Heero shiver, and smiled.  He had a silk fetish, too.  "And I'm inside you, rubbing you up against those silk sheets," he bit his lips, hearing Heero start to pant, "and my hair's loose all around us, trailing over your skin... touching... teasing...hiding us away from prying eyes..."  He almost laughed as he felt Heero shuddering against him.  It wouldn't take much...One slim fingered hand reached down and trailed lightly up the length of Heero's shaft.  
  
That was it for poor Heero.  He came hard into his lover's hip, head thrown back in ecstasy and gasping for breath.  A few moments later, he recovered and carefully washed and conditioned Duo's hair, rinsing it thoroughly when he was through.  Then he towel-dried it as best he could, dropping the towels in the hamper on his way by and carrying Duo into their bedroom, laying him down on their bed.  
  
He went and got Duo's hair brush and spent several hours brushing his love's hair dry.  When he was done, Duo was purring and fairly close to being asleep again.  Carefully, Heero arranged it so that his Seraph's hair splayed about and over his nude, sprawled form.  He took a couple of steps back and caught his breath.  "Beautiful."  He breathed.  "Seraph?"  
  
"Mmph?"  Duo started to move, to sit up.  
  
"No, don't move."  Heero stopped him.  "May I take a picture of you like this?"  
  
The L2 pilot regarded him from beneath his eyelashes.  "Sure, Daemon.  As you like."  
  
The Japanese young man turned and pulled out a rather battered-looking Polaroid camera and took a picture of his Seraph in all his glory.  He set the picture on his nightstand and slid into bed, pulling Duo close.  
  
"Mn...Hee-Chan, gotta braid my hair again before it gets all tangled..."  
  
"I'll brush it again in the morning, Seraph."  
  
"Mm.  'Kay."  
  


O•å  
  


"Seraph."  A gentle shake.  "Seraph, wake up."  
  
"Mmph?"  The redhead stirred and looked blankly up at his lover.  "Daemon?  What time is it?"  
  
"Five a.m.  Come here, Seraph, you must see this."  The Japanese young man stood by the window.  
  
"Eph."  Blearily, Duo rolled out of bed and went to his lover's side.  What he saw made him catch his breath.  "Oh, wow..."  He stared out at the sunrise, knowing that this was something he and Heero would have to share when they were older.  "Did you get a picture?"  
  
Heero nodded, pointing to a developing photograph on the dresser.  Then he turned and went to his bedside table, picking up the picture he'd taken the night before and returning to Duo's side with it.  "Look."  He held out the picture.  
  
The L2 pilot took it, and choked, eyes widening.  "Wow.  Is this what you see every time you look at me, Daemon?"  
  
"That depends.  What do you see?"  
  
"The image of Eros."  Duo breathed, studying the way his eyes burned out of the picture, as though he were tempting anyone that looked to touch.  "Love and lust and wild beauty all rolled into one."  
  
"Yes."  Heero breathed, wrapping his arms around his lover.  
  
"I'm sorry, Heero.  I'll stop trying."  He didn't specify what, but they both knew what he meant.  
  
"I'll stop visiting it."  The L1 pilot promised in return, kissing the side of Duo's neck.  There was a quiet pause, then,  "Duo?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"May I put this in Wing's cockpit?"  For the first time since Heero had fist asked Duo if he'd wanted him, the younger pilot's voice was slightly unsure.  
  
Duo closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.  "Of course, Daemon.  I would like to be able to watch over you, even when I'm not there."  
  
The brunet smiled against his lover's neck and set the picture back down on the nightstand.  "In a few hours..."  
  


O•å  


  
"The picture!"  Duo sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.  "I have to find it!"  
  
"Does it have to be at four in the morning, Duo?"  Trowa asked into his pillow.  
  
"Or can it wait a few hours?"  Said pillow continued, shifting Trowa so that he could regain feeling in his left arm.  
  
"No, I have to find it now, Wufei, Heero'll be really upset if he loses it."  Duo swung out of bed and reached for the nearest pair of pants.  
  
"Those are mine."  Quatre objected lightly.  
  
"Hey, I'm wearing boxers, Q, chill.  I have to find that picture."  Maxwell buttoned the slacks and grabbed Wufei's tank, slipping it on and dashing out the door.  
  
There was a slight pause before any of the other three moved.  "Damnit."  Wufei abruptly rolled out of bed, threw on Trowa's sweater and Duo's pants, and dashed after the American.  Trowa, on his heels, wore Wufei's pants and Quatre's shirt.  
  
The two of them caught up with Duo as the L2 pilot started to jump onto his bike.  "Get in the Jeep, Maxwell."  Wufei ordered shortly.  
  
Not wanting to waste time arguing, Duo turned on his heel and vaulted into the Jeep, sitting next to Trowa, who pulled him close.  As Wufei took off, the redhead blinked a few times and finally asked, "Hey, Wu?  How did you and Quatre end up in the same bed as me and Trowa?"  
  
"We got really drunk and decided to have sex."  Wufei replied calmly.  "But we had drunk so much that we couldn't, have sex, that is, so we just curled up with you two and went to sleep."  
  
"Oh.  Okay."  Somehow, in the light of the events of the past day or so, that failed to surprise him.  
  


O•å  


  
Duo frantically searched the remains of Wing, but he could find no sign of the picture.  "Oh, Heero's going to be so upset..."  He fretted.  
  
Wufei and Trowa exchanged a silent glance, but said nothing.  Duo was allowed his time of denial.  "What is it a picture of, Duo?"  
  
"Me."  
  
"Oh.  Like we have?"  
  
"Nope.  In this one, I'm naked."  The American continued searching.  
  
Trowa and Wufei exchanged another glance.  If Heero were alive, then he really *would* be upset if someone had a picture of a naked Duo--especially if some lucky little Ozzie had picked it up...Oh, if Heero were alive and they couldn't find that picture...They shuddered and began helping Duo look.  
  
There wouldn't be Hell to pay.  Hell would run.  
  


O•å  


  
"Such a pretty little thing you have, 01."  The soldier sneered, petting the color copy of the picture of his Seraph.  "Tell me, is he one of your little pilot friends?"  
  
"Give it back."  Heero said quietly.  
  
"I don't think I'll do that."  The soldier sneered.  "In fact, I think I'll pin it up above my bunk, so I can dream of fucking your little whore raw every night."  
  
The world stopped moving.  This beast had just called his Seraph a whore.  Seraph, *his* Seraph, was not a whore.  How dare this creature call him that!  He had no right!  With a roar, Heero ripped the steel chains free from the wall and used them to strangle and mutilate the Ozzie until he was barely recognizable.  
  
It took twelve men to restrain him, and they only managed it then because someone had the brains to shout, "he's dead!  He's dead, 01!"  
  
Almost immediately, Heero relaxed into their grips.  It didn't matter that he could have gotten free at that moment; all that mattered was that the beast who had insulted his Seraph was dead.  He blinked away the haze of rage and hatred and stared deep into understanding cerulean eyes.  
  
"I know how you feel."  Zechs Merquis murmured, wiping the blood off of Heero's face with a damp cloth.  "I would do the same if someone said that about mine."  
  
A deep look of comprehension and respect passed between the two men.  "Give me back my picture."  The Japanese young man demanded quietly.  "And I will not try to escape."  
  
Zechs nodded.  "Very well.  A deal, 01?"  
  
Heero nodded firmly and shook his hand.  "A deal, Merquis."  
  
"Very well, then.  I'll go get that picture."  Zechs turned and left, and came back shortly with the picture of Duo.  "Here."  He took the damp rag and carefully wiped clean Heero's hands before he handed him the photograph.  
  
A small smile touched Heero's lips, and he wandered off into the corner of the room,   
dragging his chains through gore behind him.  
  
"Get te chains off him."  Zechs ordered quietly.  "Have *that* cleaned up."  He motioned to the remains of the soldier on the floor.  "Spread around the men that if any one of you makes a comment about doing anything unsavory," he paused to let them catch his meaning, "to 01 or any of his companions, I will personally see to it that they are brought here and punished by 01 himself.  Understood?"  
  
"Sir?  Wouldn't it be better for 01 to think we'd do those things?  To set him off kilter?"  
  
"Two things, Private.  One, if you do that, *you* get to feed him, and two, you never *ever* threaten the love of a man's soul.  Especially when that love is the only reason you *have* a soul."  He turned on his heel to leave the cell, then paused.  "01?"  
  
Heero looked over at him.  "Merquis?"  
  
"Your execution is for tomorrow morning.  I'll send something out so they know."  And he was gone.  
  
One of the Privates frowned.  "Wasn't there a news broadcast yesterday saying he was already dead?"  
  
"Who knows."  One of the others shrugged.  "Officers.  Yeesh.  C'mon, help me get what's left of Williams out of here."  
  


O•å  


  
Trowa opened the email from his lover and read it.  He caught his breath, and read it again.  "Holy mother of--Duo!"  He shot to his feet and threw open the American's bedroom door, ignoring Duo and Wufei's nudity.  "He's alive."  
  
The two sat up sharply, nearly vaulting themselves at Trowa.  "He's what?  He is?"  
  
"My source says they're to execute him in the morning."  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?"  Duo said impatiently, throwing on his clothes.  "Let's get moving!"  
  


O•å  


  
"02, you copy?"  
  
"Clear here, 04."  
  
"03, you copy?"  
  
"All clear."  
  
"05, you copy?"  
  
"Copy, and I'm in position, 04."  
  
"04, 05, 02, this is 03."  Trowa's voice came over the comms.  "Let me get my source out first."  
  
"Roger that, 03.  You save your blond's pretty ass, we'll wait here."  Duo was in a very good mood.  
  
"Copy that.  Thanks, 02."  Trowa slipped over the railing of the balcony, pulling his gun and creeping over to the figure sleeping in the bed.  He cocked his gn and aimed it at his lover's head.  "Wake up, Zechs.  Get your ass out of here."  
  
"Awake and dressed, love."  The blond threw back the covers and surged to his feet, stalking to Trowa's side and pressing a heated kiss against his lips.  "Hi, guys."  He murmured into the comm.  
  
"Yo, 06, how's it hangin', sexy?"  Duo.  
  
"Hn.  06.  Our thanks for the information on 01."  Wufei.  
  
"Hello, 06."  Quatre.  
  
Trowa paused.  "They say hello."  He kissed his lover goodbye and paused, watching him slip out and over the balcony.  "Let's blow it all to hell, boys."  
  
"Hoo-rah, 03."  
  
The building rocked as Duo pressed the detonator button.  
  


O•å  


  
Heero looked up at the sound of an explosion, and a wicked grin split his face.  He'd promised Merquis he wouldn't try to escape...he hadn't said anything about just walking out.  The door to his cell flew open and crashed into the wall, and Heero caught his breath.  This was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.  He wished he had his camera.  
  
His Seraph stood in the doorway, long braid curling and writhing about his waist like a living being, violet eyes burning as he reached out to Heero, figure wreathed in liquid flame.  "Daemon."  A breath, husky and filled with such longing that it left a dull ache in Heero's chest.  
  
"Seraph."  Heero got to his feet and went to him, giving him a brief kiss before glancing around at the chaos his lover had caused.  "All this for me?"  
  
Duo grinned, slipping an arm around the brunet.  "You'd do the same for me.  Besides," he glanced down at his watch, "nothing like a little wanton destrution in the morning to get your day off to a really good start.  Shall we?"  
  
"Yes."  The two of them strode calmly from the burning complex, the personnel being drawn off by the explosions the others were causing on the other side.  As they were being drawn up into Deathscythe's cockpit, Duo offered Heero a detonator button.  
  
Heero laughed softly.  "I love you."  And the complex was no more.  
  
Score one for Death and his buddies.


End file.
